


Timing is Everything

by PageTurner57



Category: British Actor RPF, Original Female Character - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, original male character - Fandom
Genre: Action, F/M, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3072542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PageTurner57/pseuds/PageTurner57
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice, a waitress at a diner, finds herself in the worst possible place at the worst possible time. When a handsome stranger saves her, she must put her safety in his hands, but can she really trust him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm stating this here and it applies for all chapters: I do not own the lovely Thomas Hiddleston. However, Alice and all other fictional characters, including my writing, this posting, and my plot are all my intellectual property. Do not publish, share, or falsely state this work as your own- credit my page/AO3 account where appropriate. Thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So I've decided to do a rewrite/update of "Timing is Everything"! After flipping through the first "publication" of it, I realized that between a crazy semester, and an even crazier mind, I may have skimped on some of my ideas. So, I hope you all enjoy my updates! Here is the first updated chapter!  
> Comments and Kudos make me happy!

Title: “Timing is Everything”  
Author: PageTurner5  
Chapter 1

He had been sitting in the same booth, nursing the same cup of tea for nearly an hour. After all the other patrons had left, he remained seated, still as a handsome statue. I watched him from the counter as I glanced eagerly at the clock, counting down the minutes until I could close. Each time I made my rounds with coffee and hot water, his only response was a curt nod in acceptance. Wiping down the slowly emptying tables, I couldn’t help but to wonder who he was waiting for. Was he being stood up? Certainly a handsome man like him wouldn’t be stood up, but the slightly agitated look on his face made me think otherwise. I wanted until the last possible moment, nearly fifteen minutes after Juan and Gabe, the cook and the bus boy had left, to approach with the bill, if two dollars counted as a bill.

“Sir,” I began, placing the small piece of paper on the table, “We’re closing in ten. Take your time finishing your tea, but I can’t put in any food orders now.”

“Thank you,” he replied, finally glancing up at me, his bright, blue eyes taking me by surprise. He hadn’t actually spoken to me until that moment. Without glancing at the check, he produced a five from the pocket of his black wool coat, murmuring something that sounded like keep the change. His voice, though quiet, revealed a gentle accent that I couldn’t place.

“Thanks,” I replied. “If it doesn’t bother you, I’m going to start cleaning up.” He nodded silently, returning to his stoic façade. With a shrug, I returned to my work. I hadn’t realized how prominently handsome his features were when he had first arrived; the diner was pretty busy, but his dark, auburn, curly hair was mussed just enough to make him look casually attractive, and the neatly trimmed goatee softened his sharp jawline.

Satisfied with his response, and lack of customers, I turned to finish my cleaning, when the bells over the door jingled again.

“We’re closing in five,” I called, “I can’t put in any food orders.”

“I’ll be two.” I glanced over my shoulder and nodded to the tall, British man who sat at one of the booths in the corner of the room, facing directly at the auburn tea-drinker.

“Can I get you something?” Wiping my forehead with my sleeve, I tossed the dishrag over my shoulder, agitated.

“Coffee,” the man replied, his voice deep and curt. He glanced carelessly at me with dark eyes, the twitch of his lip hinting at a sneer. Silently I wondered to myself if there was a sign outside saying Rude Men Please Come In! After all, it wasn’t my fault the diner was closing. Pouring the cup of coffee, I grabbed a few creamers and delivered them to the opposite side of the small diner. Just like the first man, I received no response.

After retrieving the broom and dustpan from the back, I stacked the chairs and began to sweep the floor. Wisps of hair began to fall from my bun and, as I pushed them from my face, I glanced up to examine the guests. The ginger man, who sat to my right, hadn’t touched his tea since I last refilled it. Instead, he stared straight ahead at the second diner who, similarly, hadn’t touched his coffee. Auburn, as if something had occurred to him, began to run his fingers across his beard.  
I glanced over at other man and saw that he was returning Auburn’s steady gaze. His eyes were dark, as was his hair, and he sat with his fingers steepled before his lips. I continued sweeping, glancing up at the diners, and then my watch until the floor was finished, but I couldn’t push a lingering sense of fear from the back of my mind.

The men still had not moved as I finished sweeping. I could practically feel the tension between them grow, and I shuddered at their glares. Turning to put the broom away, I heard a quiet click and tensed. My skin, though hot and sweaty, erupted into goosebumps. I tried to tell myself that it was a snap on the dark-haired man’s leather jacket, but I knew it wasn’t. Why did I have to close that night? Trying not to alarm the two men, I returned the broom to the closet and approached the register, feigning disinterest in their lack of movement or conversation. Could I dial 911 without them noticing? Surely emergency services could trace the landline as I pretended to speak to my sister or boss or someone. Checking the time on my watch again, I saw it was fifteen minutes past closing time. As I reached out for the phone, a voice stopped me in my place.

 

“It would be better for all of us if you did not pick up that phone, darling.” Shutting my eyes, I tried to breathe as I contemplated my actions. I could dial 911 and try to make it to the back, but the sound of another quiet click changed my mind. “Now,” the same voice continued, “if you’ll be so kind as to step away from the phone, love, everything will be just fine.” His tone was calm, almost caring as he spoke. Slowly I turned around to see both men, still seated, each holding a handgun aimed at the other. I wasn’t sure who had spoken, but I really didn’t care as long as I could get away.

“I’ll just leave,” I began, holding my hands up defensively. “I’ll walk right out that door and I won’t come back until tomorrow morning.” The dark-haired man’s lips curled up into a slight grin, his eyes never leaving his opponent.

“That’s not happening.” The dark-haired man said. “You’ve seen my face, and I do not wish to have a living witness after tonight.” He paused for a moment, his eyes never leaving Auburn’s face. “You stay there, girl, and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

They were in a standoff. If one of them glanced my way, the other would fire and I could run. Taking a step back, I counted, 1… 2… 3… and dove beneath the counter, scrambling toward the kitchen as a muffled pop sounded behind me. I crawled back toward the kitchen, stumbling as another pop went off in the dining room.

Just get out, I repeated to myself, Just get out and run.

Finally in the shelter of the kitchen, I jumped to my feet, sliding a few times until I regained my footing. Behind me, I could hear the sounds of the two men fighting, knocking over the tables and chairs I had just fixed.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Timing is Everything

Author: Pageturner5

Chapter 2:

 

_Just get out, I repeated to myself, Just get out and run_.

 

Finally in the shelter of the kitchen, I jumped to my feet, sliding a few times until I regained my footing. Behind me, I could hear the sounds of the two men fighting, knocking over the tables and chairs I had just fixed.

 

* * *

 

 

I dove for the back door; it was a monstrous heavy metal door that was used mainly for receiving products, and I had only been through it once. I reached for the metal bar, but it refused to budge, and, as a set of footsteps began to close in behind me, I screamed. One strong hand grasped my arm and yanked me away, tossing me harshly to the floor. I screamed, trying to push the stranger away, but he was stronger, and his hand around my neck tightened, silencing my screams. I struggled against him grip for a moment before swinging my foot up, catching him in the stomach hard enough to make him pause, and managed to scrambled away. _Oh God, please don’t let me die!_ I didn’t get far, however, as he grasped my ankle, dragging me back across the cold floor to him. He raised his fist and whipped it across my face, the impact blurring my vision until suddenly, everything faded and a weight was lifted from me. A quiet _pop_ pulled me from my stupor and my eyes flew open, glancing around to see the auburn man standing over the dark man, his gun drawn and a wound forming in the center of the dark man’s forehead. I had to get out of there.

 

“Do not move, darling,” the auburn man said, turning toward me.

 

“Please don’t!” I cried, closing my eyes. “Oh God! Please let me go!” He stepped closer and I covered my face as tears began to stream down my cheeks. There was no shot, only his gentle grip as he moved my hands from my face.

 

“I’m not going to hurt you, love,” he said, and I opened my eyes. “I’m one of the good guys, I promise.” His gun was gone, and I glanced behind him, half expecting someone to appear behind him, but the diner had fallen silent. “Can you sit up?” I nodded and pushed myself up from the floor to lean against the stubborn back door. “Good girl, now let me look at that.” I could feel myself shaking as he gently prodded at the sore area near my eye. “It doesn’t look that bad.”

 

“Please let me go,” I asked quietly, pulling my hands to my chest in a desperate attempt at stopping their shaking.

 

“I can’t do that,” He replied apologetically. “I wish I could, truly, but you’d only be in worse danger. You need to come with me. It’s for your own safety.” He stood, holding out his hand. Just then, the bells above the doorway jingled and both of our eyes widened in fear. His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “If you don’t come with me, they’ll kill you. Now take my hand and run.” Another jingle of the bells brought me out of my frightened stupor and I grasped his hand and stood. Nodding his head, I followed as he tried, and failed, to silently open the back door, but the damn thing was in desperate need of some WD-40 and practically wailed on its hinges. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath, shoving it open, its screeching announcing our escape, and footsteps began to grow louder inside the restaurant. With the door barely open, we pushed through it and took off running down the alley, only to be confronted with a not-so-friendly looking man. Glancing at Auburn, I could only hope he was the lesser of all the evils that had presented themselves that night.

 

The alleyway was blocked off by a figure who, upon seeing us, approached, his hand reaching into his jacket. I had a feeling he was just like the dark stranger in the diner and just as unpleasant. The auburn stranger made quick work of the man who blocked our escape, but he wasn’t fast enough. Three more men burst from the back door of the restaurant, all brandishing guns. _Oh shit_. The man blocking the alley was thrown to the ground, either unconscious or dead, I didn’t know which, as two others ran toward Auburn and one toward me. I didn’t have time to scream as he lunged at me, but I ducked away, running further into the dead-end alley. He approached, a neutral yet intent look on his face as I stumbled backwards and fell to the hard ground. I had to save myself, but how? Glancing around, my eyes locked with the object I had stumbled over: a pipe. _Oh, thank God_. Before I realized what I was doing, I grabbed the pipe and swung at his knee, once, twice, until he fell to the ground. He raised his gun to shoot and I swung at his hand, knocking it to the ground, but not before it went off. The noise stung my ears and for a moment, a loud ringing made everything silent. A hand grabbed my arm and tugged, yanking me away from the man on the ground. I turned, intent on hitting him too, but it was Auburn. His lips moved, but all I could hear was the ringing. With another tug, we were running down the alley and into the street.

 

I don’t know how far we ran, or where we ran to, but as he ushered me through a doorway and into the small room of an apartment, I nearly collapsed. The ringing was stopping, and I could hear how loudly I was breathing. I dropped to my knees, suddenly realizing I still had the pipe in my hand and dropped that too. What had I done? What the hell was going on? Where was I? I couldn’t breathe and I felt a terrible retching in my gut. A small can, covered in a bag that contained a few wrappers and other pieces of trash was pushed in front of me and suddenly, I vomited, hard into it. When it stopped, I started coughing, and then crying.

 

“Hey, listen to me,” Auburn began, his voice quiet and calm. How the hell wasn’t he panting like me? I looked up from the trash, pushing the sweaty hair from my face as he knelt before me. “You’re safe here. You’re okay. Talk to me.” Silently I nodded, still trying to catch my breath. “Are you hurt?” he asked and I shook my head no, but his hand on my cheek stopped me. “My God,” he said, looking at something behind me.

 

“What... is… it?” I asked, my breath slowing somewhat.

 

“He grazed your ear.” Slowly he reached out, moving my wild hair to better see my apparent wound, but never touched it.

 

“What?” I asked, reaching up to touch the ear he was staring at, only to be shocked with pain as I touched the wound, my hand returning to me covered with blood. “Oh my God,” I gasped, gaping down at my fingers.

 

“Are you going to be sick?” He asked, reaching for the can.

 

“No,” I replied. “No, I’m okay.” I said the words, but didn’t believe them. Was I okay? I was definitely not. I could only stare at my crimson-covered fingers in awe; I couldn’t figure out if I was more amazed at his missing, or the fact that I was just shot at.

 

“I’m going to get you some water and bandage your ear.” Slowly he stood to his feet, wiping his brow which was covered in sweat. “Please make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll be right back. Please don’t go anywhere.” A sudden thought sprang to my mind.

 

“Do they know where we are?” I asked, pushing myself up to sit on the couch.

 

“No.” he shook his head. “We weren’t followed. Besides, they wouldn’t come so quickly. You’re safe here, at least for the night.” Pausing for a moment, he examined my expression. “Do not leave this flat. If you go out there, they’ll either take you, or kill you. Understand?”

 

“Yes,” I breathed, laying my head back against the rough fabric of the couch. Why was I so damn dizzy?

 

“Good.” He turned to leave the room, pausing for a moment, presumably to see if I would run, and then disappeared. I shut my eyes, trying to process everything that had happened, from the mysterious diners, to the fight, the attack, and the escape I was thankful we had made. I could see the dark man’s face against my closed eyelids as he knelt above me, his face contorted by an angry snarl. His dark, pure black eyes looked feral, ruthless, and unafraid to spill blood. The other man, the one from the alleyway, whose kneecaps and hand I had beaten without a second thought… How did I survive that? How could I hurt someone like that? The answer was easy: he had a gun, and he would not hesitate to use it. In fact, he did. My hand raised up to my ear, subconsciously hovering over the injury.

 

Then, the most pressing question rolled across my mind. Who was this man? Auburn, as I had called him in my mind, had saved me twice, yet killed the dark man as well. The way they had walked into the restaurant and stared at each other told me this was planned. Why did he help me? Should I trust him? Why was I trusting him? His face was implanted in my mind, the auburn hair combed back, beautiful bright, blue eyes, and a scruffy beard covering his jaw, chin, and surrounding his thin lips. He was tall and thin, but his strength was proved by how he managed to take two attackers on in defense. My heart and breathing had slowed down, thankfully, and I felt shivers rush across my bare arms.

 

That’s when I remembered my coat. It was left hanging in the restaurant along with my bag and phone. _My mother is going to kill me_ , I suddenly realized. I hadn’t called her to let her know I was back from closing. _This is why I hate closing_. Quietly, I laughed at the strangeness of my reasoning. There were many reasons I hated closing, one of them being the creepy drunk that liked to stumble through the dark parking lot where I would venture out at one or two in the morning to drive home. He’d always make the most lewd gestures at me, grunting and slurring something I could never understand. _That_ is why I hated closing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for the read! I hope to have chapter 3 fixed and updated soon!!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

* * *

 

“Here, I brought you some water?” The sudden appearance of his voice jolted me from my half-conscious thoughts and I jumped off the couch, nearly screaming in surprise. “Whoa, whoa, it’s alright,” he said, holding his hands up in defense, a glass of water in one, a first aid kit in the other. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

“It’s okay,” I replied, pushing strands of hair from my face nervously.

 

“I brought you some water,” he offered, holding out the glass to me. I stared at it hesitantly, contemplating whether or not I should take it. “It’s just water,” he said, noticing my reservations. “If I drink some, will you feel better?” Silently I nodded and watched as he drank a quarter of the glass. If he had taken a sip, I wouldn’t have believed him. “Okay?”

 

“Thank you,” I said, taking the outstretched glass. I didn’t realize how badly my hands were shaking until I took the glass from him. He motioned toward the couch as he sat and I followed, sitting back down, but on the opposite side. I took a few long gulps and finished the glass, thankful for something to be in my stomach.

 

“I’m assuming you have questions,” he began, taking the empty glass from me and placing it on the table beside him. Opening the first aid kit, he moved from the couch to kneel in front of me. “I’d like to clean that wound, if that’s alright. I don’t want it getting infected.” Silently I nodded and he began, slowly pushing my hair out of the way.

 

“I have a lot of them,” I replied and he nodded, his face a mixture of concentration and contemplation.

 

“I’m sure you do, but I can’t answer them all.” Gazing at him, face to face, I could see the worry etched into his eyes, the way he moved his lips. He knew we weren’t really safe from whoever those people were. “You have to understand. In my line of work, the more you know, the more danger you’re in and the more likely you are to be killed. Ask me and I’ll answer what I can.” I nodded, contemplating which question to ask first. After a moment, I looked him straight in the eye and asked:

 

“Who are you?” His eyebrows scrunched together and I realized I needed to be more specific. “Can you start with your name?” He took his time answering, clearly debating what he would tell me.

 

“You may call me Thomas,” he replied. “Tom, if you’d like.”

 

“I’m assuming that’s not your real name.” I replied and he shrugged, his attention moving to the first aid kit in his hand.

 

“What’s yours?” he asked.

 

“Alice,” I replied, unsure of why I told him my real name. It probably didn’t matter; he was the one filled with secrets. I was just someone who ended up being in the wrong place at the worst possible time. Gently he moved my head to the side, allowing him better access to my ear which had begun to throb.

 

“I’m very sorry we had to meet under such unpleasant circumstances,” he replied sincerely. “This may sting a bit.” He had opened a small alcohol wipe and began to dab at the cartilage of my ear with it. I winced, trying to keep myself from crying, but I felt so hypersensitive; every part of my body was either exhausted or achy. He opened a small packet of what looked like antibacterial cream and began to dab it onto the wound with a cotton pad. “You’re probably in a bit of shock right now, so you may feel fine, but by tomorrow you won’t feel as fit. I have some pain reliever if you’d like.”

 

“Thanks,” I nodded, watching as he tossed the used items into the trash and tied it shut. Suddenly I felt very embarrassed. I had vomited in front of this man, a total stranger, who had basically saved my life three times, was cleaning my injuries, and we were having a seemingly normal conversation. What the hell was I doing?

 

“It’s no problem,” he replied. “I’m sorry you were caught up in this.” Pausing for a moment, he reached up, running his hand through his hair as he considered his next words. Then, he sat back down beside me. “You weren’t supposed to be there.”

 

“I know,” I nodded. “Jim was sick. Food poisoning apparently. How did you know?” Thomas heaved a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment.

 

“Jim would have been fine. I’ve been monitoring that restaurant for a while now and he never closes as late as you do.” I should have realized that this was a planned meeting. Why else would he have sat in that dump of a diner for so long?

 

“Figures,” I sighed. “So why come if you know it’s going to be closed?” He paused again.

 

“Things didn’t go as planned,” Tom replied. “I won’t divulge anything else about that.”

 

“Okay,” I nodded. I felt like I had a million questions, but truthfully, it was so hard to put them into words. “You said you are ‘one of the good guys.’ What’s that mean?” Again, he paused. My questions weren’t very deep or philosophical; I could tell he was trying to figure out what he can and cannot tell.

 

“The man in the diner,” he began, leaning sideways against the couch, “was not a very good person. He did a number of things that warrant a punishment worse than death in my opinion. I’ve been tracking him for years now, and finally caught up with him a few weeks ago. I promise you that his death is not a tragedy.”

 

“So are you… a cop or something?” I asked and he grinned.

 

“Or something,” he said, musing to himself. “I’m not a policeman, no, but I will tell you that what I do is quite dangerous, yet rewarding.”

 

“Are you a hitman?” I gasped, covering my mouth the moment I realized how stupid my question was. He laughed, tipping his head back at my expense.

 

“No,” he replied, “No, I’m not a hitman.”

 

“But… you were there to kill that man?” It was more of a question than a statement. His expression turned dark. Everything was so confusing.  

 

“Would you have rather he killed me?” His question made me pause. If Thomas had been killed instead, I wouldn’t be sitting where I was. “And think on this: would you rather he live and continue the vicious crimes he was committing? I’m sure you’ve heard about the bust made in China just a few weeks ago?”

 

“All those children, yes,” I replied, realization dawning on me. “Oh my God,” I gasped in disgust. “He took them and – “

 

“Sold them? Yes.” He watched my expression as I looked away, my eyes focusing on nothing as my mind raced. My eyes welled with tears and I wondered if it was the shock, or the sheer terror what might have happened had he not been there.

 

“How could someone be so… so…” Silently he shrugged. “But now that he’s gone, things will start to get better.” I turned back to him. His eyes were wistful, as if remembering something or hoping for something. As he focused back on me, a grin spread across his face.

 

“You took very good care of yourself in the alleyway.” I nodded silently, hating the praise. “Alice, you needn’t feel guilty.” He reached out and gently placed a hand on my knee. “You had no choice. If they had taken you, you’d likely be dead from the torture or shot from your lack of knowledge. _You defended yourself_.” I must have looked like a deer in headlights. I had only ever hit one person in my life and that was my brother and it was all in fun. What kind of person was I? “Alice, please understand me. You have nothing to feel bad about.” I knotted my hands in my lap and stared down at them. We fell silent for a moment as I looked away, shutting my eyes. I felt so filled with emotion, yet such a void inside.

 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered quietly and, from my peripheral vision, saw him nod.

 

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for.” He sighed. “You must be exhausted,” He began after amoment. “You can take my bed for the night.” I couldn’t look at him. Why was I so weepy all of a sudden? “There’s no reason to feel bad. What you’re feeling right now is from the shock. Your body produced a lot of adrenaline and you’re just feeling the aftereffects from it. Not to mention you’re processing a lot of things right now. Go get some sleep. I’ll watch the flat and make sure everything is safe.”

 

“Okay,” I said, standing to follow him across the room to a hallway, and into a small bedroom.

 

“There’s a lock and deadbolt on the door if you’d feel safer that way.” He said, standing in the doorway.

 

“Okay.”

 

“And I have a clean tee-shirt on the chair over there if you’d like to change.”  


“Okay.” I nodded, still staring at the floor.

 

“Alice,” he said, resting a hand on my shoulder, “it’s alright.” Slowly I looked up at him.

 

“Thank you,” I said. He nodded, understanding what I meant through those two small words.

 

“Get some sleep. We’ll figure all this out in the morning.” I nodded again and he left me in the room, closing the door behind him. My hand hovered over the lock for a moment, waiting until his footsteps had disappeared into the other room, and locked it. Turning to the bed, I nearly collapsing onto it, my clothes and shoes still on. Within moments, I had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter 4 is officially proofed and updated! Enjoy!

Before I opened my eyes, I knew something was wrong. I felt myself curled up, my hands balled into fists, and my feet still in my sneakers. My face was buried in sheets that smelled of cologne, not my fabric softener. I wasn’t in my own bed. Slowly I opened my eyes, and looked around the bare bedroom. The bed, a dresser, and an old television in the corner were the only furniture. To one side, a window was covered in shabby, green curtains, and there was a deadbolt on the bedroom door. My question was answered as I climbed off the bed, and my muscled screamed in protest. Then, everything came flooding back.

The men, the guns, the running, and Thomas, pulling me from the alleyway.

I got to my feet and stepped quietly toward the door, listening for any noise. A voice, most likely Thomas, was talking to someone, but I could only hear him and no one else. He must have been on the phone.

“I don’t think you understand what I’m telling you,” Thomas said angrily, “I’m not letting her leave my sight. If she goes home, God only knows what will happen to her and her family.” He paused for a moment, his footsteps creaking on the old floor as he paced. “I am _not_ having her blood on my hands! Do you understand me? You’re the one who kept tabs on Jim! You were supposed to call me if anything went wrong!” Again he paused, sighing and cursing under his breath. “No. You’re going to fix this. Call your contacts and get this fixed.” He fell silent for longer this time and I assumed he had ended his call. His footsteps disappeared into another room and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. He sounded like he was genuinely worried for my safety, but there was something in the pit of my stomach warning me.

I opened to door and peered down the small hallway to find the living room empty. Stepping out, I glanced around, listening for any sign of him when I heard running water. After following the noise, I found a small kitchen across from the living room and paused in the doorway, watching as he leaned over the sink, filling a glass and tipping his head back to drink. I shuffled my feet awkwardly and, from behind, I could see him tense. He had removed his wool coat and dress shirt sometime during the night and only wore a thin, white undershirt and slightly wrinkled trousers. The shirt was translucent and revealed his sculpted musculature. I never expected him, a think and lankly man, to be as built as he was. His arms, especially, were toned, and he tensed visibly as I stepped into the kitchen.

“How did you sleep?” He asked, his back still facing me. His voice was quiet, flat, unlike before while on the phone.

“Good.” I replied quietly. “Thank you. For everything.” He bowed his head, running his hands through his messy hair. After discarding the cup in the sink, he turned to face me. He was badly bruised, a purple, swollen lump forming beneath one eye, deforming his perfect, angular cheekbone. His arms were bruised as well and his knuckles were red and scraped. He must have noticed my staring, as he turned away, pretending to search through a cabinet for something. His hands were immaculate last night. “Um… I… Can I go home?”

“No.” He replied simply. I merely stared at him in disbelief. He couldn’t keep me in his apartment. He wasn’t a cop. Apparently, my shock registered on my face because he sighed, attempting to find the right words before he spoke. “I can’t let you leave,” he began. “If you go out there and they find you, it won’t be pretty.”

“But I don’t know anything,” I countered. “What good am I?”

“They’ll use you to get to me.” His voice was tense, and I could tell he was trying to contain his frustration. Or was it anger? “Listen,” he sighed, “I’m known for my job and doing it well, but if there is one thing I don’t do, its let innocents get hurt. They know that and they’ll use you against me.” I nodded and leaned against the wall, folding my arms across my chest. “Alright, I’m going to get cleaned up. There are a few things I need to take care of today.” I nodded. “Alice, listen. I’m not trying to keep you away from your family. Trust me, things would be a whole lot easier if you had never been involved, but I need you to stay here. Leaving would only complicate things.” Glancing up from my shoes, I realized he was waiting for a verbal acknowledgement. It was like grade school all over again.

“I understand,” I replied, refraining from commenting on my sense of self preservation.

“You _do not_ open that door under any circumstances. If someone knocks, you get me. Do you understand?” I cringed at the way he spoke down to me, tempted to remind him that I was not a child, but thought better of it. There was no way to know how he’d react.

“I understand,” I replied and, after a moment, he brushed passed me and disappeared into the bathroom.

What the hell was his problem? It’s not like I wanted to get into this situation, so why was he acting like it was my fault? Unfolding my arms, I realized how tightly I was squeezing my fists that I cringed, flexing my fingers. Good lord, I was sore. I could leave; it’s not like he would bother to come and get me, but what if he was right? He had proven himself trustworthy so far. He could have just left me there at the mercy of… whoever they were. The abrupt rumbling of my stomach brought me back to reality, and I was starved.

I hated going through other peoples’ things, especially for food, but I figured it would help me stay in his favor. Down the hall, the shower started. I was hungry, and by the looks of his barren cabinets, he didn’t have much of an appetite. Perhaps a bit of cooking would relinquish me from his bad side.

In the refrigerator, I found a few eggs that were still good, a gallon of milk with only a little left, and, to my surprise, cheese, as well as other things I didn’t see useful for breakfast. I could make omelets as long as he had some sort of frying pan. Thankfully, he did, and, as I searched through the cabinet drawers in search of a fork and spatula, I found a knife. It wasn’t much, just a steak knife, but if I was going to be staying in his room for… however long, I decided it was better to err on the side of caution. There may have been a deadbolt on his bedroom door, but who says he didn’t have a key? Besides, what happened if those other people found us? As silently as possible, I took the knife and made my way quietly down the hall, passed the bathroom, and into the bedroom where I lifted the mattress and slid the knife underneath.

I’d be sleeping with it under my pillow tonight.

Returning to the kitchen, I began breaking and whisking the eggs, mixed them with milk in a bowl, and started cooking on the old gas stovetop. I added the cheese, folded the omelet, and placed it onto a plate for him. Satisfied with his, I started on my own.

When I finished with the cooking, I cleaned up, forcing myself to mindless tasks; I was afraid I’d lose my mind if I didn’t. Moments later, I heard the bathroom door open, followed by his bedroom door shutting. Silently I prayed he wouldn’t go looking and find the knife.

With the eggs back in the fridge, I began to wash the pan, spatula, and anything else I may have dirtied while cleaning. My thoughts drifted as I cleaned, my brain wandering, bringing up the images of last night. What the hell was I doing? Why was I cooking for this man? Should I run? Would I really be in danger if I did? Who was this man? I was willing to bet his name wasn’t really Thomas. I was so deep in thought that I didn’t hear him step up behind me and jumped back, gasping as a hand reached around to shut off the water. Instinctively I pushed him away, suddenly seeing the dark haired man instead of Thomas.

I was back in the alleyway, the stranger posed above me, his gun pointed in my face. I screamed, fighting the strong grip that appeared around my arms, pushing and scrambling until I heard my name. I cringed, covering my face in anticipation of the shot, but I was shaken.

“Alice!” He called, “Alice, you’re safe! Look at me!” Hesitantly, I opened my eyes, suddenly realizing my surroundings. I wasn’t in the alleyway. My heart was pounding, my lungs gasping for air as I stared up at Thomas’s bright, blue eyes. “Breathe. Look at me. Breathe.” I did as he said, but nothing could stop the tears that suddenly flooded down my face. His hands loosened on my arms as I stopped fighting him.

I moved to leave, just wanting to run away as I broke into sobs, but then he did something I never expected: he pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. He was warm, the heat of the shower still radiating from his skin as he held me. I sobbed into his shirt and he stroked my head, gently rocking me until I stopped. I felt so foolish for breaking down and even worse that he held me. Was it pity? Finally calming down, I took a deep breath, taking in the smell of soap and something else. It was the same smell as on his bed, musky and masculine.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice deep and gravelly. He let me pull back, but kept his arms around me just enough so I could look up at him. “Are you okay?” I nodded silently, my eyes resting on his chest. I couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes, not after that. “Listen,” he began, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, “It’s normal to have flashbacks after a traumatic experience. I promise. It happens to the best of us.” I nodded, but still refused to look at him.

“I just want to go home,” I said, barely whispering. I felt him nod and step back, withdrawing his warmth from me. I felt suddenly empty without his arms around me and tried to replace them with mine, but it didn’t make a difference. I was cold and scared. His silence showed his understanding. “I-I made omelets.” I said in a poor attempt at filling the silence. A quiet laugh escaped his lips.

“Thank you very much,” he replied. “I’m going to heat mine up. May I do the same for yours?” I nodded, watching as he popped each omelet into the small microwave and retrieved forks. I watched for any reaction as he retrieved them from the drawer, but he didn’t notice one knife missing. With both breakfasts warm, we moved into the living room and sat on the couch, eating in silence. I didn’t realize how absolutely starving I was until the food hit my lips. He had barely eaten half by the time I had finished mine, my stomach still growling in protest. He finished, placing his plate on the small table that sat before us, and looked over at me. “Alice,” he began, “We need to discuss our situation.”

“I know,” I replied. “I… I wanted to ask if I could call my parents… to let them know I’m okay.”

“I may be able to manage that for you,” Thomas replied, “but first I need to tell you a few things.” He took his time, steepling his fingers over his lips as he composed his thoughts. “I told you I wasn’t a policeman earlier. That’s true. But I know one and he’s helped me with certain… situations before. I’ve asked him to help you. He’s agreed to keep an eye on your family if you’re okay with it.”

“That’s wonderful,” I nodded, feeling somewhat hopeful.

“My friend, however, can’t stay with them at all times.” Thomas continued. “If you are to call them, you _must_ tell them that you’re under police protection. I don’t know if… there’s no guarantee that they’ve found out who you are, but it’s best to play it safe. Alice, if they find out who you are-” Suddenly, his phone began to ring and he grabbed it from his pocket. “Yeah?” he paused for a moment, his eyes widening. “Shit. Thank you.” He hung up and reached for the television remote on the table, flicking it on and switching to a news station. Within seconds, my face was plastered across the screen with a hotline number beneath it.

“Shit,” I echoed, unable to tear my gaze away from the officer that stood at a podium taking questions from the press.

“We do not believe Miss Bromley was a part of this crime.” The officer said. “We believe she has disappeared as a result of the crime. We ask anyone with any information that may lead to her rescue to please call the tip line at the bottom of your screen.” He looked away from the camera for a moment and began speaking again. “We have Alice’s family here and they would like to speak to the public.” Beside me, Thomas cursed under his breath. The officer moved away, allowing my sobbing mother and sister, and my sleep-deprived father to take the stage. My father began, holding my sister and my mother’s hands as he spoke. I could feel Thomas’ gaze on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away from the screen.

“Alice is a sweet, kind, and loving young woman,” my father began, his voice shaky, “Please, let her come home to us. All we are asking is to have our daughter back.” He couldn’t speak anymore, and stepped away from the microphone, following the gesture of the officer to move out of the camera’s shot. The offer resumed his position at the podium and began describing _Raphael Santoza_ , the man found dead at the restaurant, and his various crimes against humanity. His picture popped up on the screen and I shuddered, shutting my eyes and turning away. Thomas shut the television off, sending us into silence.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently and I nodded. Looking up at him, I opened my eyes, feeling a newfound fire within me.

“I need to keep them safe.” I said, swallowing the tears I hated feeling. “What can I do?” A look of worry crossed his face, but was quickly disguised by a crooked grin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the read! I'll be updating 5 soon!


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